


Apollo

by jennytork



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 16:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennytork/pseuds/jennytork
Summary: Dean returns broken from Hell, Bobby ends up nearly hitting a dog. These two things end up being more connected than anyone realises, and it serves to work for everyone's good.





	Apollo

APOLLO

Bobby Singer prided himself on being hyper-observant of his surroundings. He was one of the best hunters out there, a connoiseur of lore and arcanity. Once he had identified that one of his adopted boys was possessed just by watching how he walked from the car to the house.

So for him to be flying blindly down the highway, so lost in thought that the scenery around him was only a blur? Well, that was unmistakeable proof that something was preying on the man's mind. Only one thing could cause Bobby to be that distracted and concerned.

Something had happened to one of his boys. This time – unlike the possession – it was Dean that had Bobby's guts twisting themselves into knots.

A year and a half ago, Dean had made a boneheaded decision to sell his soul to save his brother's life. While it had worked, Bobby had watched both his boys begin to unravel as the clock ticked ever down to Dean's death. When Dean went to Hell, Bobby watched Sam go completely round the bend.

Now Dean was back – and he put up a brave front, trying to deal with both what had happened to him and what his brother had become without him, while also dealing with an angel making vague demands of him. But it hadn't lasted. 

Three months after he had returned, Dean had broken. He had told his family what had happened in Hell, how he had picked up the knife after thirty years. He had told his family of his guilt and his shame and how he just wanted it to be all right again.

And then Dean had stopped talking altogether. Sam was vanishing for days at a time and coming back plainly hopped up on something. Bobby knew the signs.

So did Dean, apparently. He just seemed like he was slowly getting crushed under the burdens of what he had done and what he was watching happening to his brother.

All Bobby wanted to do was help his boys. Both of them. But he didn't know how. He was hoping this drive would clear his mind, but all it seemed to be doing was making his brain whirl even more.

A dark shape darted out in front of the Chevelle. Bobby didn't have time for more than a single sharp wordless cry of shock before he slammed on the brakes. The second the car had stopped, he opened the door and crept around, gun drawn, to see what creature this was.

Bobby blinked in shock to find a rather large brown and white dog cowering in front of the Chevelle. Round brown eyes raised to his and a whimpering whine hit his ears. 

"Hey, boy," Bobby said, slowly approaching the animal. "Did I hit ya, huh?" He presented his hand for the dog to sniff, and smiled when the tail began to wag. He gently ran his hands down all four legs and the hips and back and ribs, smile growing when he found no injury. He found a collar with a current rabies inoculation record but no phone number, nothing else but a single word inscribed on it.

"Apollo, huh? Like one of the Dobermans from Magnum P.I.? Is that your name?" He opened the door to the car and laughed when the dog leapt right into it. "Well, you clearly belong to someone." He allowed the dog to drink a bit of water from his hand – holy water, he was no fool – and made sure to caress him with a silver ring on his finger. "Well, you're obviously a normal dog. Let's get you home, see if we can find your owner, huh?"

As they drove back to the Salvage Yard, Bobby found himself opening up to this dog about his boys, about how they both could use a little extra canid attention while Bobby was finding Apollo's owner. "It could do them both a world of good," Bobby said as they pulled into the gates.

Apollo was hanging his head out the window like any other dog – but his eyes were fixed on the building approaching. He let out a sigh that, had the engine not masked it, would have sounded an awful lot like the words, "Soon..... soon...."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a cursory investigation by his big rottweiler, Bobby opened the front door and couldn't resist the fond chuckle as Apollo bounded inside, hopping lithely right over the salt lines grouted into the threshold.

Bobby felt his heart squeeze when he saw Dean sitting limply on the couch, nursing a beer that was still dripping condensation, clearly not having been long out of the fridge. Dean stared blindly at the TV, which was cheerfully blaring a cooking program with a way-too-perky hostess.

"Hey, boy. I'm back."

Dean nodded slightly.

"Sam home?"

Dean's shoulders rose slightly, seemingly without his control.

Dammit. "Any idea where he went?"

His hand tightened on the longneck.

"When he'll be back?"

He threw back a long gulp.

Message received. "All right, then. You hungry?"

Dean pointedly ignored him.

Before Bobby could say another word a soft clicking sounded – small claws on hardwood floor. Dean suddenly blinked in shock and looked down at his lap.

A furred head was resting on his leg. Compassionate brown eyes stared into emerald-jade and a soft whimper of sound came from the canine's throat.

Dean glanced wildly at Bobby, who smiled. "Name's Apollo. I'm going to find his owner. Till then – looks like he wants to be with you."

Dean's mouth twisted in disgust and he shoved Apollo's head off his leg, sliding to the other end of the couch and curling into a miserable ball.

Apollo's tail thudded against the floor for a few seconds, then the couch shuddered as his full weight crashed onto it. Apollo marched right down the cushions to the curled-up Winchester and forcefully pressed his icy nose right into the small gap of skin that showed between shirt and belt.

For the first time in weeks, Dean made a sound. He YELPED, shooting off the couch and violently rubbing his back with a growled, "What the HELL!"

Apollo's tongue lolled in a doggie grin, his tail thumping the cushions in sheer delight.

Bobby couldn't help it. He laughed. "Guess he showed you!"

Dean glared at him, then at Apollo. He stormed up the stairs and they heard his door slam.

Apollo trotted up the stairs after him. Bobby just chuckled and turned toward the kitchen. "Good luck gettin' rid of that one, boy."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam returned to the Salvage Yard a few hours later and went right to his room. It was a matter of how estranged the brothers had become that Sam preferred to be in the small guest room across the hall from the bedroom they had always shared.

It broke Bobby's heart. But since Sam was visibly high again, maybe it was for the best. At least Bobby knew they both would survive the night.

A few hours after that, Bobby was working on translating a Cuneiform tablet – finding to his delight that it was a Sumerian Bestiary – when the papers he was working with moved in a slight breeze. Looking up, Bobby was unsurprised to see Castiel standing on front of his desk. "Somethin' I can help you with, Feathers?"

"You can break the new warding and allow me into Dean's room."

Bobby froze. He held up a finger, hurriedly finished a sentence and starred it, indicating that was a guess and he'd look into it later, then put his pen down and stood up. "Castiel," he said, and the use of his name instead of the nickname ensured that he had the angel's full attention. "There's no new warding there."

Castiel's shoulders straightened and his eyes widened slightly, but his voice was the usual monotone. "Impossible. I can't get in."

"You can tell if I'm lying. Am I lying?"

Castiel's head tilted like an overgrown bird. "No. I don't understand."

"Me either. Let's go." 

As their feet touched the bottom step, Castiel reached over and gripped Bobby's forearm. "What is upstairs with the brothers?"

"Just Apollo."

"Apollo?" Castiel frowned. "That would explain what I'm sensing."

"You can sense the dog?"

Castiel's expression didn't change, but Bobby could almost sense the frown deepening. "I sense only the dog outside on the grounds. What is upstairs is no canine, Bobby. And it has just moved into Sam's room."

Bobby had never raced up those stairs so fast in all the years the boys had been coming to stay with him. He threw open Sam's door and froze before he drew his gun and pointed it at the head of the creature on Sam's bed. "What the hell are you?"

Behind him, Castiel opened Dean's door and Dean slowly came off his bed hearing the shout.

After a couple more beats, Bobby barked, "Talk! What the hell are you and what are you doing to Sam?"

Instantly, a wide-eyed Dean was at his elbow, staring in shock at the sight in the room.

The willowy man sitting beside Sam turned and smiled, revealing dimples to rival Dean's brother and father's. "Please relax," he said calmly, his voice holding just a trace of an exotic European accent. "I mean the boy no harm."

"What are you doing?" Bobby could have rejoiced to hear Dean's voice after weeks of silence, but the circumstances kept him silent after his oldest voiced that question. 

The man turned wide brown eyes toward Castiel. "I am doing what you could have done and chose not to." 

Castiel's shoulders stiffened and Bobby demanded, "What's he talkin' about, Feathers?"

The man turned fully back toward Sam and gently lay a hand on his forehead. Sam let out a deep sigh and his body relaxed more.

Castiel took a deep breath. "He's healing Sam. Of... Of everything. The addiction. The intial demon blood infusion. All of it."

Dean turned to glare at Castiel. "What does he mean, you could have done it and chose not to?"

"I was under orders not to," Castiel said softly. "Not to interfere with Sam. Just... to get you on board."

"Your orders suck!" Dean growled out, and the man on the bed chuckled at it.

"You didn't answer me," Bobby ground out. "Who are you and what are you?"

"This is Apollo," Castiel answered, and both hunters' heads snapped to him wide-eyed before turning back to the figure on the bed. "The Greek god of healing, prophecy and the sun."

"You might want to stand back," Apollo said as he slowly stood and reached for Sam's mouth. Sam's lips parted and a dark shape began forcing its way through his lips. Apollo's hand shot out and he grabbed the red-black serpent by the neck, gently drawing all four and a quarter feet of it from Sam's mouth.

"What the hell is that?" Dean yelped.

"The demon blood," Apollo said, smiling as the fanged serpent tried to writhe and bite at him. "Turned into a form I could control. Two inches for every six months it has been inside of him." He turned to face Bobby. "I need somewhere I can burn this."

"The back yard," Bobby said. "Follow me." 

As they passed, Apollo turned to face Dean. "Once this is taken care of, I shall heal you. Your brother is completely healed, Dean. You need to be as well. I was sent to do this for you boys."

"By who?" Dean asked.

Apollo opened his mouth, but was distracted when the serpent wriggled again. "I will answer all your questions once this is taken care of. Please stay with your brother. Bobby and I will be right back." He looked at Castiel. "And you do nothing. You will be dealt with as well." Then he left the room.

Dean and Castiel just looked at each other, startled into immobile silence.

A bright light flared outside the house, then Bobby and Apollo walked back into the room. Apollo was running his hand through his long dark curls, before he settled the golden circlet of leaves back in its place around his forehead to hold his hair. "Done," he smiled. "The blood is immolated and will plague your brother no longer. Now for you."

Castiel suddenly put himself in front of Dean. "He is MY charge. You will NOT harm him."

"I have no intention of harming him," Apollo said, chocolate eyes meeting cerulean and locking. "I will heal him of the indignities your kind has inflicted upon him, as well as those that your bastard cousins have."

Bobby frowned. "Bastard.... cousins?"

"Angels and the upper eschelon of demons," Apollo said. "They started out the same species."

"What do I need to be healed from?" Dean asked.

"All that you suffered in Hell. The memories will not be removed, but they will be made easier to handle. Sam's was physical – yours are emotional." He nodded toward Sam, who was now peacefully sleeping. "And you will be better able to care for your brother."

That did it. Dean nodded and started to step forward.

Castiel grabbed his arm. "Dean, no. He is a pagan."

Apollo laughed. "Yes, I am. But one who was sent by your Father Himself to care for this family.” At Castiel's expression, his laughter boomed out again. “Seriously, angel. Is your God so limited that He can only work within the narrow parameters of your personal faith system?”

Castiel challenged, "I am under orders--"

"Yes, about those," Apollo said. "I have a personal message for your direct supervisor. So please go get him." He waved his hand and Castiel suddenly was no longer there.

In the stunned silence that followed, Apollo smiled at Dean. "I was sent to heal you as well, Dean. May I?"

Dean turned his back on Apollo – showing him a startling amount of trust – and pulled a chair up beside Sam's bed. He sat down in it and looked at Bobby. "Make sure he does what he says."

"You know I will," Bobby assured him.

Dean nodded. "Go ahead, Apollo." He smiled slightly. "But no cold-nosing me this time."

Apollo laughed. "Got you talking again, didn't it?"

Dean shook his head and the grin grew. He closed his eyes and felt Apollo's hand settle over his forehead and the other take hold of one of his own. "Dean," Apollo said softly. "Because of what happened to you, this will hurt. I can't help that. You can squeeze as hard as you can – you will not hurt me."

Dean nodded. Then it began and his world dissolved into pain. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It took all of Bobby's considerable willpower not to cross the room and physically pull Apollo from Dean. Fortunately, he didn't have to keep himself in check for more than a handful of seconds after Dean began to scream.

Unfortunately, it was because he was spending those eternal few minutes preventing Sam, startled violently awake, from pulling Apollo from Dean.

"Let me _go,_ Bobby! He's hurting Dean! Let me _go!_ What the hell is going on? Who the hell is that? Bobby, _let me go!"_

"Calm down, boy!" Bobby hissed into his ear. "Let the man work!"

That got Sam's attention. Horrified wide eyes turned to lock onto Bobby's. "Work?" he squawked out. Under other circumstances, it would have been funny. "Bobby, he's _hurting Dean!"_

Before Bobby could reply, Dean's ragged voice gasped out, "Sammy.... stand..... down."

Sam spun to face them. The man was standing next to Dean, a hand on his shoulder. Not keeping him seated in the chair either – this looked more supportive than anything.

Dean smiled shakily. "I'm okay."

"He was hurting you!" Sam pointed at the man. "How is that even marginally okay? Who the hell is he, anyway?"

"Dean, may I?" When Dean nodded, the man patted his shoulder. "Catch your breath for a minute." A second nod from Dean, and the man turned to Sam. "You have seen and cleaned enough wounds, Sam, that you know that sometimes to begin the healing, pain must be caused. An inoculation. Stitches. Reducing a dislocation."

"What does that have to do with--" Sam began, but the man interrupted. 

"Everything. Dean has been tortured, physically and emotionally. The physical wounds are long-healed, but the emotional ones were left to fester – by cruel design. Now they are healing. Dean knew in advance my healing would cause him pain, and granted permission."

"He's Apollo," Bobby put in. _"The_ Apollo. Healing is kind'a what he does."

Sam looked at his brother, and the truth of the matter was revealed in his eyes. Reassured that Apollo was on their side, Sam took a deep breath. Then his shoulders stiffened. "Wait – you said the emotional wounds were left to fester _by design._ What do you mean?"

"Cas wasn't allowed to heal me," Dean said. "He was _ordered_ to leave me suffering."

Apollo nodded. "To keep you off-balance and confused, and thus reinforce the sentence of 'weak' and 'needs avenging' that the demoness has been whispering to Sam's soul."

Sam shook his head. "You don't understand! I _have_ to kill Lilith!"

"If you do,"Apollo said, his voice suddenly cold steel, "you release a greater evil into the world. Kill her – and Hell invades earth. Bind her – and not only do you have the revenge you seek, but the world is safe."

Sam shook his head again. "She has to _die!_ She is the one who held his contract in the first place!"

"And the demoness told you this?" Reading the affirmative in Sam's expression, Apollo laughed softly. "It goes that deep, then – the deception. The manipulation. Lilith orchestrated the machinations, but she never held your brother's contract, child."

"Then who did?" Sam demanded.

Apollo met his eyes. "The demoness that today answers to the name Ruby."

Stunned silence greeted that, followed by a triple-voiced explosion of _"What?"_

Apollo nodded slowly. "The level of manipulation on both sides – angelic and demonic – that has affected your family is sickening."

Sam lowered his head. "Ruby's supposed to be here later today to pick me up."

"What?" Bobby growled. "She's the one who's had you so damned strung out?"

"Don't worry, Bobby," Apollo reassured him. "My sister is on guard around the house."

"Your sister?" Sam blinked. Ever since he'd woken up to Dean's screaming, he'd felt a handful of steps behind and rather stupid.

Apollo nodded. "Should your demoness arrive for you, she will not leave these grounds." 

Dean put his hand on Sam's arm. "Sammy.... Apollo healed you. You were strung out, man. Hooked. Whatever was making you so powerful, so aggressive – it was killing you. Apollo healed you of it, and of what Yellow-Eyes put inside you as a baby. You're _clean,_ man." 

Sam blinked at him. "All I've lived with since you ...." He clutched onto Dean's sleeve, and his voice suddenly shook. His eyes were wet. "Someone had to pay for what happened to you. Someone still has to pay. But you say I can't kill her! What do I do, Dean? What do I do?"

Dean tugged him into a hug and then pulled back. He rested his hands on Sam's shoulders and used his thumbs to capture his jaw, holding his head still and making his eyes meet Dean's. "We find a way to bind her. Send her back to Hell permanently."

"But someone still has to pay," Sam whispered. "I have to make them pay!"

Apollo walked over and lay his hand on Sam's shoulder. "The time for revenge for you is over, Sam. Now is the time to reconnect, rest and heal."

Dean challenged, "Sammy, do you want me to heal from my time in Hell?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then why are you so hell-bent on rubbing my nose in the fact that I went there?" At Sam's stricken look, he went on, "That's what you're doing every time you go off with Ruby. Every time you get strung out. Every time you act like Dad, bent on revenge over family."

Sam crumbled. There was no other word for it. He crashed into Dean's chest and clung to him like a drowning man, sobbing messily.

Apollo smiled and turned to Bobby. "Now their healing truly begins."

Bobby nodded. "I think you're right. So now--"

That was as far as he got, before Castiel shimmered into view beside Apollo, who turned and smiled broadly at him. "I take it your supervisor is outside?"

Castiel nodded. "He could not enter the house."

Bobby nodded. "Nice to know those sigils work."

Apollo rubbed his hands together. "So let's go deal with this." He lowered his voice. "Are you coming?"

Dean shook his head, rubbing Sam's back even as he lowered both of them to sit on the bed. "This is a bit more important right now."

Apollo nodded. "I understand." He turned back to Castiel. "Let's go, then. Are you coming, Bobby?"

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As they walked into the Salvage Yard, Apollo turned to Bobby. "You might want to stay on the porch."

"Agreed," Castiel said. "You have some warding up. If things go badly, you will have at least some measure of protection."

"Fine." Bobby stopped walking and moved to the railing surrounding the porch, leaning his weight on it. "That your boss, Feathers?"

Castiel nodded at the slight, balding man with wide eyes that stood, fists clenched, in the yard. The idle thought struck Bobby that he was dressed as if he was going to a funeral. Castiel answered Bobby's question: "That is my garrison commander. His name is Zachariah."

"That's the one I was told to talk to." Apollo stepped confidently off the porch and walked right over to him. "Hello, Zachariah."

Cold eyes scanned him, then looked past him. A sneer twisted the angel's lips and he barked, "Singer! Explain why Castiel is permitted entry and I am not!"

Bobby chose not to reply, just pinned him with a glare that he had perfected since unofficially adopting his boys after John's death. That glare had been known to make both their mouths snap shut on whatever they were saying and causing them to rethink what they were saying.

He was delighted to find the cold look had the same effect on arrogant angels. Zachariah visibly froze, large eyes blinking as he was trying to make sense of the fact that this human was not only _not_ afraid of him, but was looking at him like he was a child who needed to be put into his place.

Apollo cleared his throat. "I believe you and I have business."

Zachariah looked at him again, then scoffed. "Angels have no business with pagans."

"You are mistaken," Apollo replied. "When angels go from being their Father's servants to serving their own interests, that is very much our business."

"You," Zachariah spat at him. Literally. "You filth know _nothing_ of our Father's will! You do nothing _but_ serve your own intersts!"

"Normally," Apollo nodded. "But then again – these are hardly normal times." Zachariah glared at him, and Apollo said firmly, "This is a false Apocalypse, triggered by angels and demons working together and manipulating a single family to force a false prophecy to happen."

"Have a care, pagan!" Zachariah spat again.

Apollo wiped the liquid off his cheek. "I don't intimidate, angel. Especially since I am not here of my own free will."

Zachariah raised a hand. His eyes flared white-blue with grace and he blasted Apollo with enough energy that the house shook and Bobby ducked down behind the railing to avoid getting caught in it. 

When the light show faded, Apollo stood there, unharmed, arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips. "Are you finished?"

Zachariah's hand fell to his side like he had no more energy to keep it up. "......I don't understand," he stammered. "That should have destroyed you!"

"As I said," Apollo calmly said, "I am not here of my own free will. Castiel, is there some way every angel can hear what I say?"

"Yes," Castiel said. "Allow me to transmit what you say through what Dean calls 'angel radio'."

Bobby turned as he heard a noise from behind him. Dean and Sam were racing for the door, alerted by the power discharge. "It's okay," he caught them as they shot onto the porch, weapons in hand. "Baldy over there tried to smite Apollo, and it didn't work. Feathers is linking him into 'angel radio' and Apollo is about to deliver that message he's been trying to."

The brothers nodded and they headed to stand with Bobby by the railing and watch.

Castiel stood beside Apollo, fingers pressed to his temple. Apollo took a deep breath and his voice rippled through the essences of every angel, everywhere. 

"Hear me, angels! I am Apollo, spirit of healing from the pantheon of the Greeks and Romans! I have been sent to address you, to give you this message: _Stop this course of action._ When it is time for Apocalypse, it will not need manipulation from you and the demons to bring about, which is what is happening here! When the final battle happens, it will not be these two brothers that your family has tortured theirs for generations to create vessels for your brothers! You have forgotten what your Father has decreed of you! And if you seek proof of what I say, may I remind you of the example of the children of Israel and the Assyrian nation? The Babylonian nation? As it was on Earth, so it is in Heaven. Or in other words ---" Apollo smiled. "If the children of God will not listen to Him, He will choose those who will! You will not succeed. The will of your Father is that you return to ministering to the humans – not seeking to destroy them for your own delusions of paradise! This is the message of your Father." He nodded at Castiel, who removed his fingers.

Dean nudged Sam. "Look," he chuckled. "Baldy there's turning purple."

Indeed, Zachariah looked ready to explode. As soon as Apollo and Castiel were no longer touching, he did just that. "How _dare_ you! How dare you presume to speak for our Father! How dare you put yourse--" His lips kept moving, but no sound emerged.

"That's enough, Zachariah."

The Winchesters gasped and Sam's fingers suddenly grabbed onto Dean's sleeve as two figures walked from thin air into the Salvage Yard. One was a tall man who looked like he had walked right out of an African throne room. 

The other was John Winchester.

Zachariah turned to face them and broke into a smile that looked all matter of wrong on his face. "Raphael! Michael! Thank the Father! Now we can destroy this presumptive pagan and get on with the pl--" He had turned to glare at Apollo and when he turned back to the newcomers his voice spluttered out and his smile dropped as if it had never been there.

Despite the situation, the Winchester brothers shared a smile. They had been on the receiving end of that quelling Drill Sargent's glare several times over the years. To see it augmented with the force of a literal archangel behind it? "Think he's peed his pants yet?" Dean whispered.

"I would," Sam chuckled back.

"Think you did a time or two."

"Wasn't the only one."

"Boys," Bobby hissed, and the danger of the situation registered again. They fell silent and watched as their father's form strode toward Apollo.

Apollo smiled warmly at him. "Welcome, Prince of Angels. Healer."

"Healer," Raphael greeted in return, head tilting slightly. 

Dean had to pinch the bridge of his nose to keep the scene from a sci-fi show of various people repeated "Colonel" to each other until one shot "Seriously?" from filtering from his brain to his mouth. Now was not the time!

Their father's voice rumbled as his hand extended toward Apollo. "Show me."

Apollo reached and grasped Michael's hand. The salt-and-pepper curls flew slightly as his head snapped back, eyes flaring blue-white streaked liberally with gold. 

Zachariah opened his mouth again and Raphael's large hand landed on his shoulder. "If you speak again, _Seraph,_ you will find yourself a Cupid. Understand?"

Zachariah swallowed once, visibly, and nodded. His mouth closed and remained so as Michael's head slowly returned to a normal position and he tugged his hand from Apollo's. "I understand."

"I hoped you would," Apollo said, nodding.

"I had no idea we had fallen so far." Michael turned to Raphael and put a hand on his shoulder. His eyes flared white-blue and he growled slightly as Michael dropped his hand. "We assumed that this had happened organically. We were unaware of the machinations happening. Working with demons? Truly, Zachariah?"

"It was not happening," Zachariah said. "The prophecy was not coming to pass, and we knew it should."

Hazel eyes narrowed as Michael ground out, "And it never crossed your mind that the prophecy was not coming to pass because it might be _a false prophecy?"_

Zachariah swallowed again. "Prophecy is prophecy."

"And you are a fool." He turned to Raphael. "Get him out of my sight."

Raphael nodded and took Zachariah by the collar, lifting him entirely off the ground. "And this one?" He nodded at Castiel.

Michael turned to him and John's dimples appeared as a smile shone out. "Out of all of us, this young rebel obeyed the Father the best. Leave him here. Allow him to serve these humans." Raphael vanished with Zachariah and Michael turned back to Apollo. "When we were too blind to see, Father humbled us and directed us through one we would not normally listen to. You have my thanks, Healer, for listening and obeying Him."

Apollo inclined his head. "The thanks are mine, Prince, for listening to the message and obeying."

Michael then looked at the porch and took a single step toward it. Instantly Bobby put himself between him and the brothers, and Michael stopped, smiling. "Relax, my friend. I mean no harm. I am here to offer a gift."

"What's the catch?" Sam asked.

"The catch is your father will not remember it when I return him to his proper place. But... it was cruel the way he was torn from you. I am willing to step back and give you the chance to say a proper farewell."

The brothers looked at each other, then back at him. In unison, they nodded.

Michael swayed and his form seemed to flash with light for a second. Then a confused John Winchester looked up. ".....what the hell...."

It took two strides each, and suddenly each brother was hugging their father for all they were worth. John breathed, "Boys...." Memory seemed to flood from Michael, and suddenly his arms tightened around each of them. "Oh, G-d, boys...."

"We survived," Sam whispered. "We made it."

Dean just nodded, too overcome to speak.

John just held them a few seconds longer, then said, "I'm proud of you."

It was as close to an 'I love you' as they would get. They all knew it.

Before they could reply, Castiel suddenly shouted, "Look out!" 

All three ducked as an arrow soared to their right, burying itself into the neck of a brunette woman who had just stepped onto the grounds of the Salvage Yard. She lit up with orange fire and toppled onto her side, dead.

Bobby frowned. "Was that--?"

"Ruby. Yes." Apollo grinned. "I told you my sister would take care of her should she arrive."

Each of the brothers whispered to John that they loved him and missed him. Then, as one, they stepped back. John's smile remained burned into their minds as Michael vanished.

Apollo walked up to Bobby as the brothers went to take care of the demon's body. "Well, that's it."

"That's really it?" Bobby asked, frowning. "No more Apocalypse?"

"Not this false one, no. I will leave you the information you need to bind and banish Lilith. Once she learns of Ruby's death, it will only be a matter of time." Apollo suddenly snapped his fingers. "Oh, and I almost forgot. I have one more gift for you three."

"You've given us so much," Bobby said. 

"This one, I already gave you." He gestured, and a familiar canine form raced out of the house, tongue lolling and tail wagging. "His name is Eos. He is one of my familiars. And he wants to remain, so I have granted it."

Bobby bent to scratch the dog's head. "Well, then, I guess he's welcome to stay." He turned to look up at Apollo, only to find nobody there. "Balls!"

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next 48 hours were eventful. In the middle of the Winchesters shopping for things Eos would need and having long talks about what happened and where they go from here, Lilith showed up at the Salvage Yard. It was plain she was expecting to injure and cow the Winchesters. 

Instead, she found herself ambushed and waking up next to the Cage Itself, with chains made of hellfire binding her physically to it. 

It was well and truly over.

A week of healing and planning later, Bobby Singer stood on his porch, his big rottweiler by his side, watching the Impala pull away from the Salvage Yard and waving at his boys. 

Three arms – one clad in leather, one in denim and one tan trenchcoated – waved back at him, and Eos's delighted barks rang from the back window. 

Bobby scratched his faithful dog's ears as the engine rumble faded away. "Well, boy, it's a new day for everyone. Better get those phones charged up. God alone knows what kind of trouble those four are gonna get up to next."

END

**Author's Note:**

> My entry in this year's summergen. Believe it or not, this was inspired by a sermon. When Apollo is talking to the angels, he mentions the Babylonians and Assyrians and speaks of listening. The listening line is a direct quote from the sermon that inspired this.


End file.
